Aftermath: Chapter 1 - New Beginnings

 I really didn’t want to be here. Like, really, really didn’t want to be here. At all. Okay, Oakland High didn’t look too bad, I suppose. I think I'm just nervous about starting anew.

 The school looks nice compared to my old school, now that I think about it. Shiny, clean windows gleamed with the reflections of the morning sun, and orange-red bricks made up the rectangular building's shape. All the entrance-ways were a glossy red, with distorted shines on them from the bright beacon in the sky. There was a small white-brick building to the right, but it's exterior was ruined by old and cracked graffiti art. The tiny school grounds were largely taken up by a parking lot, with a dirty bike shelter near the grounds' entrance.

 The place was pretty clean too, with barely any rubbish littering the concrete. The school must have strict littering rules or something, because my old school had gum melted into the ground everywhere, and empty bags from the fish and chip shop would roll around the grounds, kind of like tumbleweed in the desert.

 And the students looked nicer here too. Maybe I was just at a really bad school previously, but comparing the students here to the ones back in Scotland, these people appear... less intimidating. Sure, some of the girls are like skyscrapers compared to me, and the guys are basically the same, only taller, but they don't appear to have bad intentions. They all look like genuinely nice people.

 Maybe this place isn't so bad after all.

 Clutching my notebook close to my chest, I strode towards the main door. That was where my parents said I was to go, so that I could get my timetable from the office and, also, to wait for my ‘guide’ to take me to my first class.

 I was pretty nervous about starting a new school in Oakland. In fact, make that anxious. I had a terrible experience at my old school, with being bullied and having no friends whatsoever, so it makes me kind of... scared to be starting a new school. I mean, what if it all starts again? What happens if I start getting bullied again? Will I make any friends here at all?

 Other students on the grounds hushed as I passed them, and I could feel their eyes examining me like some alien from Pluto, or like a hybrid animal that's escaped from experimentation labs. That’s what it seemed like, anyway.

 I quickened my pace, feeling that I was being judged by these complete strangers. I just wanted to get into the building, get my timetable, and get taken to class.

 Thankfully, I reached the steps that led up to the main door. I bolted up them and flew through the shining red doors, and they closed with a slight thud behind me. The dull noise shouldn't have affected me, but it made me jump a little bit.

 Jeez, I really am on edge, aren't I? Am I really that paranoid of what people think about me?

 Well, of course. After being brutally bullied at my previous school, I feel like everyone is watching me, wanting to take a shot at hurting me because of my family's religion. My mother and father are Hindus, and so is my older sister, but believing in a great being that doesn't exist just didn't appeal to me, and my family accepted it. It just meant my family would celebrate some things that I had no idea about, so I wouldn't join in with them.

 However, despite me not having a religion, I was bullied for "apparently" being Muslim. People would punch my arm when they passed me in the halls, trip me up when I entered class and stuck gum to my seat so that, when I sat down, it would stick to my skirt. Those aren't the worst things that have happened to me though, and it makes me shiver whenever I think about the scars I still have that ripple and distort on my back.

 I shake the thoughts from my mind. I can't think about that at a time like this. I need to try and be somewhat positive.

 Only now did I realise that I been holding my breath, and let it out in a shaky, heavy sigh. Closing my eyes, I released the iron grip that I had on my notebook. Just relax, I thought to myself. Everything will be fine. Opening my eyes again, I saw that my hands were trembling, with lines imprinted in the palms of my hands from my notebook.

 “Great,” I mumbled to myself.

 “Can I help you, miss?”

 Looking up, I saw that a receptionist was peering at me from behind her office window. She reminded me of a mouse, peering out from it's hiding place. "New girl?" she inquired.

 I nodded shyly and walked sheepishly towards her. "I'm, uh, Jaylin."

 The woman smiled gently, creating slight creases around her eyes and her mouth. She wasn't exactly old, but she wasn't young either. Maybe she was in her forties? Or even her fifties? I don't know.

 "Yes, we've been expecting you Miss Mackenzie," she said softly, then looked down and searched through a pile of papers with one hand, whilst also tucking a loose strand of hair back into her sleek auburn ponytail. The hair colour wasn't natural, as I could see her natural hair growing in, but damn did I want my hair that colour. It would be better than this boring, frizzy black hair I have that goes just past my butt.

 I looked at my surroundings while I waited, feeling uncomfortable just standing there and watching the receptionist finding whatever it was she was looking for. The reception area was rather small, with damp staining the sky blue walls and the cloud white ceiling in some places. There was a small area in the corner where a few worn blue seats were gathered, looking as though they were upset over the state that they were in. It made me slightly sad, because this reception area was probably really nice and happy in the beginning, but has been the subject of neglect, making it appear more depressing than welcoming.

 Finally, the receptionist produced a sheet of paper from the pile and held it out to me with her perfectly manicured hand. "You'll need this to know what class to get to."

 "Thanks," I muttered.

 "Just sit over there," she pointed to the chairs in the corner. "Someone in your grade will come and take you to your first class."

 I nodded and shuffled away to chairs, feeling slightly relieved at the fact that a fellow student would be guiding me around the school and not a teacher. I have nothing against teachers or anything, but I'd rather not be seen walking next to them or anything. I'd rather not get labelled a teacher's pet, thank you very much.

 As I sat down on one of the shabby plush chairs, a shaky sigh escaped my lips. I wonder what the classes in this school are like. The timetable in my hands had various different subjects that I never had at my old school. Literature and Creative Writing? Aren't those both just English, but divided in half? And what about IT? Is that the same as Computing back in Scotland?

 The qualification levels weren't on my timetable, which confused me. All my previous timetables from my old school would specify what level you were studying in each subject, like Intermediate 2 or Advanced Higher, but nothing was specified on this new timetable. Are there no specific levels for subjects here?

 I really hope I can make some friends here. I had one person in my old school I would talk to, but we never considered each other friends. I was mostly hated by everyone for being "Muslim". I consider my sister my best friend, but she doesn't really count, since she's family and will always be there when I need her.

 I'd like friends who like the same stuff as me, or can relate to me in some way... or even someone who is totally different from me and can introduce me to things that I never knew of before. That'd be pretty cool.

 My inner monologue would've continued if someone hadn't prodded me painfully on the arm.

 "Ow," I moaned, then looked up at the person who had decided it was okay to poke me so hard. "That really hurt."

 Before me stood a pale-skinned girl with bright orange hair, whose emerald green eyes inspected me with great curiosity. She was shorter than me (and I'm small for someone whose whole family are tall as heck) and she was skinny, almost like the models you see in magazines. Her tight black tank top and matching skinny jeans helped me to identify her as a punk rocker.

 But, damn, was she pretty for a punk girl.

 "Are you the girl I'm showing around?" she asked whilst pushing her bangs off of her face.

 "Um... Possibly," I answered back.

 The girl rummaged around in her jean pockets, her small hands completely filling them in their search for whatever they were looking for.

 I looked at the girl more closely, noticing other things that I hadn't seen at first. Yellow was dyed on the tips of her layered hair, and thick black eyeliner was neatly lined across her lids and flicked slightly at the ends. She had freckles across her nose and the apples of her cheeks, which were just visible through whatever makeup she was wearing.

 I was slightly jealous of this girl, to be honest. She was basically normal, with lovely white skin as smooth as marble, perfectly applied minimal makeup and lovely vibrant coloured hair. She appears to be the sort of person who doesn't care what people think, and she seems fun and loud just from looking at her.

 Why can't I be like her, instead of being in this vessel that I unfortunately possess?

 "Here we go!" the girl said triumphantly while producing a crumpled up piece of paper. Carefully unfolding it, she sighed an apology for her "unprofessionalism", then quickly scanned the paper. Looking at me, she asked "Jaylin?"

 I smiled awkwardly and nodded. "Yeah, but I prefer Jay."

 "Oh, a tomboy, are you?" she grinned at me, as though she were teasing me.

 "Um, sorry?"

 "Just kidding!" she exclaimed, then pulled me out of my seat. "I'm Hayley! Hayley Williams!" The girl then proceeded to spin in a circle gracefully, as though she were a ballerina. "And I'm your guide for the week!"

 Hayley. The cute and majorly normal name suits her face, but not her image... I'll get used to it though.

 "So, you're a junior like me then?" Hayley asked as she walked away. I quickly followed after her, almost tripping over a dent in the carpet.

 "Um, a junior? What does that mean?"

 Hayley looked at me as though I were stupid or something, but how am I supposed to know what a junior is? I'm new to the American education system, how the heck am I supposed to know what the word junior means?

 "You're in my grade, duh!" she slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "How can you possibly not know that?"

 I just looked at her and shrugged.

 "It don't matter," she strode ahead, weaving in and out of staff members that had started to collect in the corridor. "just keep up with me okay? We're heading up to the second floor."

 She wasn't kidding when she said to keep up with her. I lost sight of her after she turned to go up the stairs. Christ, was she some kind of athlete?

 "Hurry up, slow poke!" she shouted from the first floor.

 After apologising to the staff for bumping them slightly as I passed, I ran after Hayley, hoping my legs wouldn't betray me and make me fall. There weren't many students hanging around the stairs, which seemed unnatural to me. At my previous school everyone would gather on the staircase to chat and sneak each other gum before the bell rang, but here there was only a few kids hanging around and doing stuff on their phones in silence.

 Reaching the top of the stairs, I wheezed, "Where... is... everyone?"

 "Hurry up!" I heard Hayley call from the floor above.

 "Oh... come... on," I breathed as I dragged myself up the next set of stairs. I would crawl up the stairs if I could, but they were made out of cold, hard concrete, and I'd rather not get my hands cold and dirty just because I was out of shape.

 My legs were burning by the time I reached the second floor, where I saw Hayley jumping up and down impatiently, like a child waiting for their ice-cream from the ice-cream van. Her canvas shoes made a squeak every time they came in contact with the laminate wood floor. "Finally!" she sighed heavily. "I could've died waiting for you!"

 Noticing that she was over exaggerating, I rolled my eyes while trying to get my energy back. I shouldn't have ran up the first flight of stairs. That was a bad move, as now I can't be bothered moving another inch.

 "Ready to go?" Hayley asked, putting a hand on my shoulder.

 "No... more... stairs... please," I said as I was getting my breath back.

 I heard Hayley giggle, before a voice down the corridor shouted "Hayley!"

 "Frank!" she replied and ran towards the source of the voice.

 I watched her run down the cream coloured corridor towards a guy about the same height as her. I straightened myself up, after finally getting my breathing back on track.

 While I waited awkwardly for Hayley to come back, I checked out my surroundings. The walls had cracks that zigzagged everywhere, almost like lightning gone haywire, which connected to the grey ceiling. The laminate floors' wooden pattern was distorted and warped, which was a shame because the colour of the wood pattern was like the inside of an oak tree.

 I've always quite liked trees for some odd reason. I don't know why, but I like the purity that surrounds them. They help give resources to creatures that need them, like a home, food and oxygen, and they have such natural beauty. The way their branches curve and bend in such graceful ways, it just makes me want to be a tree. To be seen as a pure thing would be amazing, and to help others in the same ways as a tree would be amazing as well.

 Until I got chopped down and made into paper or a desk, anyway.

 Fingers snapping in front of my eyes brought me out of my tree-related thoughts. "Hello, Earth to Jay," Hayley said, now waving her hand at me. "Would you stop staring at the floor? I need to take you to class now."

 "Oh, right, okay," I mumbled, blinking afterwards to make sure I wouldn't start daydreaming about being a tree again.

 As Hayley skipped ahead of me down the corridor, I shuffled behind, attempting to keep up with her. How can someone have so much energy after running up two flights of stairs? Does she do sports or something?

 "Here we are!" Hayley sang as she twirled outside one of the green classroom doors. I looked around, kind of embarrassed that Hayley was acting this way, but the few students that were hanging around didn't seem to care, or even notice. They were too busy doing stuff on their phones.

 Glancing back in the direction of Hayley, I noticed a sign sticking out above the door. '29B' it read. Checking my timetable, which was still in my hands, the first class of today was 'Creative Writing'.

 "We're in the same class, so you can sit next to me," Hayley smiled, then proceeded to open the classroom door. I must have looked horrified or something at what she did, because Hayley giggled, then explained, "We're allowed into class early so we can get good seats!" Seeing me hesitate, she grabbed on to my arm and pulled me into the classroom.

 I almost fell face first into the classroom's blue carpet, due to the amount of force that Hayley pulled me at, but she caught me before any part of my body even touched the floor. She giggled an apology, before heading towards the back of the class.

 The classroom was... well, it wasn't the best looking thing in the world, but it was okay. Mystery stains marked the carpet, engravings adorned the red wooden desks, thick cobwebs covered the corners on the outside of the windows, and cracks danced over the grey-blue walls. My nose wrinkled without me commanding it to, but I don't blame it to be honest. I wouldn't even be surprised if years of chewed gum was stuck beneath all of the desks.

 The classroom had a typical layout. There was a blackboard at the front of the class, just behind the teachers' desk, students' desks lined up in rows, taking up the majority of the room, and at the back there was bookshelves for textbooks and pieces of paper.

 As I looked over to where Hayley had walked off too, I saw that we weren't alone in here. There was a boy sitting at the back of the class doodling on a notepad with a black marker, his tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly in concentration. His black mop of hair concealed his eyes, kind of like how curtains would hide the actors who were about to perform a drama piece.

 There was something... off about him though. I couldn't quite figure out what it was, but I could feel that he had some sort of bad aura about him. I use the word 'aura' because my mother's into psychic stuff, like tarot cards and Ouija boards, so sometimes she'll teach me some stuff. People's auras are what I have a 'gift' for apparently, so she's kind of teaching me how to notice bad auras first... if that makes any sense.

 "So, Jay," Hayley had settled into a seat in the back row. "I have one question, and one question only." She fixed a rather serious stern on her face and looked right into my eyes. "Have you heard of The Distillers?"

 I felt kind of pressured here. I had heard of The Distillers from reading NME magazines, but I've never really had time to buy one of their albums and listen to them, or whatever.

 Dammit, what if she doesn't like me for not liking that band? Will she turn her back on me or something? I'd rather not have to go around this school by myself. The thought of that makes my hands sweat and my knees quiver.

 "Y-yeah, I've heard of them," I say anxiously as I nervously approach her. "But, um..."

 "You haven't heard any of their songs?" She cocks her head slightly to the left, a smirk twitching at the edges of her mouth.

 I just nod, then look down at the floor. Please don't let her hate me, I thought to myself. Please, please don't let her hate me. 

 "Cheer up, Miss Funeral Face!" she laughed. "It's fine if you haven't listened to them, I was just wondering if you knew who they were!"

 I looked up at her, then whispered an "oh" as my cheeks started to burn red. I was embarrassed, because I over-reacted internally over this whole situation and I hated myself for it. Why in the world would this lovely girl hate me? We've only just met, so what reason would she have to let me fend for myself in this huge and foreign school?

 Hayley clicked her fingers and motioned for me to sit next to her, and I did so without question. Climbing all those stairs up here had kind of took a lot out of me, and it was only then that I realised how tired my legs had become.

 Just as I sat down, a small voice to my left said "Hello."

 I looked in the doodling boy's direction. Did he really say 'hello' to me? If he did... then how can someone with a bad aura have such a soft, gentle voice? Mind you, my mother had told me once that even nice people could have bad auras, and it's not their fault. It may be due to personal problems or a mental illness that they have a bad aura. Maybe this boy had one of these things? Like, an addiction or something? I don't know. I better not think too much about it.

 I smiled timidly at the boy, taking in his odd appearance. He was head to toe in black, the only colour to him being his hazel eyes and his pale skin... well, his skin hasn't got that much colour to it, but you know what I mean.

 I guess he's a... Goth? No, he'd be wearing face paint and actual Gothic attire, not just a pair of black jeans and an Iron Maiden t-shirt. Perhaps he's a metal-head? Wait, don't they have mohawks, or extremely long, natural coloured hair? I couldn't think of what kind of person he could be, which made my brain hurt a little. He must identify as part of a subculture that I haven't heard of or read about yet.

 "Do you want to see my drawing?" he asked, holding out the notepad he was scribbling on only moments before. His nails were painted black, with the polish chipping at the tips and around the edges.

 I whisper "Yeah," then gently take the notepad from him. Why would someone I barely know let me see their drawing? Are they trying to be polite? I don't know.

 On the notepad page that the boy had being scribbling on was a drawing of... someone. I didn't recognize who it was, but it must be someone the boy looks up to. The drawing is of a bald man, wearing a black t-shirt that says 'ZERO' with a guitar hanging in front of him from it's strap. Stars sparkled all around him as his arms are swung in the air, as though he were a performer of sorts. This man that the boy had drawn was in some sort of... comic book style? I think that's what it is.

 "That's wicked, Gee!" Hayley exclaims right next to my ear. She gasps, then pretends to faint. "Too much greatness... to handle..."

 The boy scowls at her, then gestures for me to give the notepad back. "Ha ha, Hayley, very funny," he said sarcastically

 Hayley responds to "Gee" as I'm giving him back his notepad. "I was just messing! It's actually really good."

 These two must be friends, otherwise they wouldn't be acting like this with each other. If Hayley's friends with this person, then maybe I can be too.

 Wait, I can't just assume that, because these people are nice to me, that they'll want to be friends with me. I need to just see where I go with them, in terms of, you know, being friends with them and stuff.

 "Oh, Jaylin!" Hayley was flapping her hands urgently in my face. "I forgot to introduce you both!"

 The boy and I looked at each other. She meant us of course.

 "Jaylin, this is Gerard, the geeky emo of basically every class!" she beamed, sprouting her arms in the air as if she were introducing some great God or whatever. "And Gee, this is Jaylin, she's the new girl here."

 Emo?

 "Stop calling me an emo," Gerard moaned. "You know I hate that."

 "But why," Hayley whined at him, sticking out her bottom lip.

 "Because, it makes me sound like some menacing demon or some shit like that." he said with a slight frown.

 "Oh, hush yourself," Hayley gave him a playful shove. "You're emo, and that's that!"

 Emo. That's twice that Hayley has said that, yet I've never heard such a word being used before, and this is coming from someone who gets straight A's in English. I guess I could look up the word later, in the library or something. The library should have computers, so it shouldn't be hard to search 'emo' on the internet and find out what it means.

 The dull boom of thunder could be heard far off in the distance, many miles away from the school. I've never really heard, or seen, thunder that much in my life, only the odd time when the UK got the tail-end of an American storm. Looking out of the classroom windows, I couldn't really see anything, just the clouded sky and the rain that had began to fall.

 "Did you hear that?" I asked no one in particular.

 Both Gerard and Hayley nodded.

 "Are we getting a storm today?" I leaned forward a bit, attempting to look for some sort of sign that there was a storm nearby.

 "Not that I know of," Hayley leaned back in her seat, flipping her fringe out of her eyes. "And even if we are, who cares? We'll be fine inside the school."

 I noticed Gerard was looking out of the window as well, only his expression was one of... sadness? Why would he be sad? Did he know something that Hayley and I didn't?

 "There wasn't a storm in the weather forecast," Gerard spoke solemnly. "But you never know."

 What was that supposed to mean? Are we getting a storm, or are we not? I shivered in my seat.

 "Don't scare the girl!" Hayley shrieked, noticing that I had shook in my place. "Jay's just started school and you're talking about freaking storms!"

 He just shrugged, and started scribbling in his notepad again.

 As the bell rang and people filed into the classroom, I could sense a change in the atmosphere. Not because of what Gerard said, but because I could feel like something was going to happen... something that could change everything.

 No, that's stupid. On my first day at school, nothing could possibly happen.

 Could it?